Juneteenth by Ralph Ellison Page A

hear the true word.
    They pain here and here and there and there. How far the sight? The Scene?… In Tulsa, after the tent meeting, they gave me a Black Cow, sweet teat of root beer and cool glob of ice cream.… He taught me to ha and ah deep in my throat like a blues singer. Horehound honey and lemon drops . Cool against the heat of all that fire … It hurts here and here and there and there. Long nails .
    “Senator, can you see me?”
    Ha! The merry-go-round broke down!
    Up there on Brickyard Hill the octagonal tents shimmered white in the sunlight. Below, my God, sweet Jesus, lay the devastation of the green wood! Ha! And in the blackened streets the entrails of men, women and baby grand pianos, their songs sunk to an empty twang struck by the aimless whirling of violent winds. Behold! Behold the charred foundations of the House of God! Oh, but then, in those sad days came Bliss, the preacher … Came Bliss, the preacher … No more came Bliss .
    Daddy Hickman, I said, can I take Teddy too?
    Teddy? Just why you got to have that confounded bear with you all the time, Bliss? Ain’t the Easter bunny enough? And your little white leather Bible, your kid-bound Word of God? Ain’t that enough for you, Bliss?
    But it’s dark in there and I feel braver with Teddy. Because you see, Teddy’s a bear and bears ain’t afraid of the dark.
    Never mind all that, Bliss. And don’t you start preaching me no sermon; ’specially none of those you make up yourself. You preach what I been teaching you and there’ll be folks enough out there tonight who’ll be willing to listen to you. I tell you, Bliss, you’re going to make a fine preacher and you’re starting at just the right age. You’re just a little over six and Jesus Christ himself didn’t start until he was twelve. But you have to go leave that bear alone . The other day I even heard you preaching to that bear. Bliss, bears don’t give a continental about the Word. Did you ever hear tell of a bear of God? Of course not. There’s the Lamb of God, and the Holy Dove, and one of the saints, Jerome, had him a lion. And another had him abull of some kind—probably an old-fashioned airplane, since he had wings—he said under his breath, and Peter had the keys to the Rock. But no bear, Bliss. So you think about that, you hear?
    He looked at me with that gentle, joking look, smiling in his eyes, and I felt better.
    You think you could eat some ice cream?
    Oh, yes, sir.
    You do? Well, here; take this four bits and go get us each a pint. You look today like you could eat just about a pint. What I mean is, you look kind of hot.
    He leaned back and squinted down.
    I can even see the steam rising out of your collar, Bliss. In fact, I suspect you’re on fire, so you better hurry. Make mine strawberry. Without a doubt, ice cream is good for a man’s belly, and when he has to sing and preach a lot like I do, it’s good for his throat too. Wait a second—where’d I put that money? Here it is. I thought I’d lost it. Ice cream is good if you don’t overdo it—but I don’t guess I have to recommend it to you though, do I, Bliss? ’Cause you’re already sunk chin deep in the ice cream habit. Fact, Bliss, if eating ice cream was a sin you’d sail to hell in a freezer. Ha, ha! I’m sorry, now don’t look at me like that. I was only kidding, little boy. Here, take this dime and bring us some of those chocolate marshmallow cookies you love so well. Hurry on now, and watch out for those wagons and autos.…
    Yes , the Senator thought, that was how it began, and that was Hickman. When he laughed his belly shook like a Santa Claus. A great kettledrum of deep laughter. Huge, tall, slow-moving. Like a carriage of state in ceremonial parade until on the platform, then a man of words evoking action. Black Garrick, Alonzo Zuber, Daddy Hickman .
    God’s Golden-voiced Hickman
Better known as
GOD’S TROMBONE ,
    they billed him. Brother A.Z. to Deacon Wilhite, when they were